Chef scrutinizes the char-grilled asparagus and burnt onion with fresh herbs.

The three spears are neatly parallel. The four dots of chive mayonnaise are equally spaced in a straight line, and of consistently ascending size.

Satisfied, he calls out, "Service."

A waiter, dressed in a smart uniform with a tartan waistcoat and gray trousers, takes the plate to diners in a high-ceilinged room whose modernity with slate walls and tiled floor draws warmth from soft lighting and colorful paintings. There are no windows.

It might be a restaurant anywhere. But the chefs and waiters are prisoners inside HMP High Down, a high security jail for 1,500 inmates. Most of the men are here for years, including murderers, rapists and drug dealers.

Being in a prison brings limits. No yeast because it can be used in brewing, while vanilla essence is banned because it contains alcohol. No wine or drinks are served and the cutlery is plastic. (The kitchen knives are kept in a locked cupboard with a so-called shadow board that shows any missing.)

The waiters are more attentive and focused than you find in many places on the outside.